It's a Mad, Mad World
by lilacflower2
Summary: "Sorry. It completely slipped my mind while we had our little moment together but I decided to get a bit of insurance. I'm sure I'm just going to have a blast with our little Alice Ophelia Watson." Set just before S1E3, Harri W loses her daughter Alice because of her addiction. Being sent to live with John, Alice has now gone from one type of crazy to something far more horrifying.
1. Chapter 1

WEELLLLLLLLLLLLCOOOOOME to my first non-romance story. Before I go any further, I want to let you all know that Alice is based off my dear friend who is like a little sister to me- 2CuteAnimeAngel! She's really helped me with making certain decisions like the cover and the name and Alice's name- she really is a huge part and this truly is for her.

That aside, I want to thank you as well, reader, for taking the time of day to check this out. If you would let me know what you think,- should you decide to read on- in the review box, that would be lovely! Without further adieu, here's...

_Chapter 1_

The sleek black car arrived in front of the Baker street rentals 221A and 221B. In front of 221B was my Uncle John. My social worker Isaac helped me out of the car, an apologetic smile on his face. He'd been the same one who got me adopted by Harriet "Harry' Watson almost ten years ago, and now he was the one taking me from her.

"At least you know him somewhat. Cheer up, old girl." He whispered comfortingly to me.

"I will soon enough." I replied uneasily. I knew it was true. I was always one to accept change readily, being as that was all that seemed to occur constantly.

"Hello, Alice." Uncle John told me, wrapping me in a strong hug. I could feel his anger, but it wasn't towards me. It was toward my mother. She had given up on drinking for the first several years, but over the last couple she and her girlfriend were fighting more, so she got back to it. I suppose I always knew they eventually take me away because of it.

"Here's he belongings." Isaac told John, handing him a duffle bag. John was silent a moment and I moved so that I faced Isaac as well.

"Where's the rest?"

"This is it." Isaac replied shortly.

"I never really wanted anything, Uncle John. This was always enough for me."

He flared his nostrils a bit and pushed me away slightly. "Go inside. We'll be in soon." John told me as calmly as he could. I nodded and did as I was told, taking the bag with me. When I was inside, an older woman was just coming down the stairs. She gave me a big, warm smile and wrapped me in a hug.

"Hello, dear! I'm Mrs. Hudson, the landlady. I'm so excited to meet you! Even before this whole mess, John would occasionally tell me about his adorable little niece and how he couldn't wait to see her again."

"Well, I'm glad good things have been said." I told her honestly, hugging the old woman back. As I stepped away, I told her, "It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Hudson. Do I go upstairs?"

"Oh, you'll be in this room down here. It's not really a bedroom, more like a mini-basement, but John has been working hard in there to clean it up for you."

"O-oh. How nice." I smiled genuinely at her. It felt a bit out-of-the-ordinary for someone to put a lot of effort into things for me, but it was a good feeling. One I hadn't had in a while. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Will you always be around?"

"As long as I'm alive." With that, she scurried on back to whatever she had to do.

Carefully, I walked towards my new room and opened the door. It was painted green inside and the decorations were mostly light pinks. I went over to my new bed that had a plaid and floral quilt on it that wouldn't get too hot in the summer but would be warm enough for winter. The mattress itself was light and squishy, which would be easy to sleep on. The whole room made me grin and I couldn't wait to see the upstairs.

I ran out of my room excitedly and bolted up the stairs. The walls on the stairs were so old fashioned, but I loved it. It was like house from _The Velveteen Rabbit._ When I reached the top of the stairs, I slowly opened the door to find books upon books upon books. On the mantel of the fireplace, there was also a skull, but I found it more charming than anything. When I walked in, I ran my hand across some of the book spines, my worries about coming being long gone.

"It's considered rude not to say hello when you enter a room." A voice suddenly boomed from behind me. I gave a light screech and turned to see a man in light blue pajamas lying on the couch.

"M-My apologies! I-I-I didn't see you!"

He rolled his silver eyes. "Obviously." He literally jumped up from the couch and began walking towards me, his hands behind his back. "You must be Alice, John Watson's niece."

"Th-that I am." I answered as confidently as I could, but being alone with a strange man who possibly had some form of insanity and was walking towards me did not help that.

When he got within a meter of me, I began stepping back some. At this, he stopped, the realization dawning on him. "Are you scared of me?"

"Wouldn't you be scared if you were in my place?"

He took several steps back. "I suppose. My apologies, Ms. _Alice._" My name rolled off his tongue like a disease, earning a glare from me.

"Who do you even think you are?"

He smirked. "Sherlock Holmes. The world's only consulting detective."

I didn't even try to hide my shock. "_You_ are _Sherlock Holmes?"_

"You sound surprised."

"You're a 30-something year-old man in light blue pajamas despite that it's 15:39."

"You don't believe me then?"

"Give me one reason to."

He began scanning over me before speaking. "You've had that dress for many years and is probably the only one you own since it is getting a bit worn out. You know more the world than you let on through your innocent demeanor and have vowed to keep it that way for as long as possible. Based off your immediate fascination with the books, you probably were not given the opportunity to read as often as you wished. Your hair's ends are splitting, indicating that you were not taken as good of care as you needed, but being as you are still full of wonder it's clear that you didn't know any different. You have eyes that are wise past your years even if you choose to ignore that wisdom for that sake of being a child while you can."

My eyes narrowed a bit at him. "Alright. So you can read me like a book. What can you tell about my life?"

He scoffed. "John has told me plenty about your family."

"I'm not asking my family. I'm asking about life in general."

He scanned me once more before nodding to himself. "Your classmates whispered amongst themselves about how weird you are for reading every chance you get from the school library. They often avoid discussion with you and you don't have any friends, but you don't mind. You don't like anyone in your school anyway since you were the only one given a scholarship to the prestigious school and everyone else is stuck up. They think that they're the ones ignoring you, but in truth you ignore them. As for your family, you tell those that you're fine with how things are so that they don't get overly angry like John has been since hearing that you were coming. You've actually tried saving up money to buy things yourself, but your mother has always found your stash and used it for drinking. Shall I go on?"

"You're an arse, you know that?"

"Tsk. That's not something a child should be saying."

"You're acting just as much like a child, Mr. Holmes."

"Child? You think I'm like a _child?_"

"As I child myself, I know it." He began pouting, clearly wanting to explode at me. "Hm. Enough of an adult not to yell at me. Good job."

The door opened as Sherlock responded with, "At least I'm not a bratty little girl!"

"Sherlock!" John yelled at the man-child. "She was just taken from her mother and now you call her a bratty child?! Do you have no tact?!"

"Your _niece_ has been-"

"He started his anger towards me because I came in and didn't notice him."

"SHERLOCK!"

"It was rude!"

"Oh yes, I mistakenly didn't see you and that's rude, but everything you said on purpose wasn't."

"You wanted proof that I was really Sherlock Holmes!"

"You didn't have to be cruel about it!"

"Would you both shut up?!" John yelled at us. The door slowly entered once more to reveal Isaac. He looked like a child walking in on an argument.

"Should I sit outside while you work this out?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered before John could.

"N- NO! Sherlock, grow up! No, Isaac, come in."

I rolled my eyes. "I thought I was the thirteen year old."


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, I'm coming back today with another chapter today, though Mondays are when I'll normally update. I just wanted to give people a good taste of the book. (One chapter rarely ever does it justice, I find.)

So, yeah. here you go!

Chapter 2

By the time a week passed, I had a general understanding of how things worked. Occasionally, John or Sherlock would be talking to or arguing with me (depending on the person), but within moments they'd get call. When that call arrives, everything else is dropped and I'm left with Mrs. Hudson.

I chuckled to myself, thinking of the first time John asked her to look after me. She plainly told him, "I'm not your sitter." However, she didn't seem to mind it too much since I help her with what she needed done.

Currently, I sat in my room reading _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire._ The boys have been out for six hours for some case about serial break in's at this apartment complex. Mrs. Hudson had nothing else for me to do, so I decided to sit in the living room and wait. Of course, it was nearly 23:00, so my eyelids were drooping a bit and the words were swimming. Finally, I couldn't force myself any longer and let my eyes close, if only for a moment.

John and Sherlock entered the small home, smiles on their faces. They decided to catch the robber at night, only for him to have a gun. The adrenaline pumped through their veins still of how they lead the fool to where the police waited, bullets flying around them. When it was all said and done, they were given a ride back as payment for their good work.

"Oh, Alice is probably asleep already. We should keep quiet so we don't wake her." John finally said after a bout of laughter.

"I suppose you're right. I'd rather not fight that battle with her."

"But all the others are fair game?" John questioned before heading up the stairs.

"She starts them!"

"I've listened to you two. It's half and half."

"It's not my fault she's naturally more irritating."

John scoffed. "And you call yourself an adult." With that, he opened the door to the main room, only to see Alice asleep in Sherlock's chair.

"Why did you stop?" Sherlock asked, opening the door further so he could enter. When he saw the sleeping girl, he was a bit surprised. Annoyance set in, however, when he realized it was his seat. "So this is why my chair felt off. She's been sitting in it!"

"Shhh-shh." John said with annoyance. He slowly crept over to the girl and gently picked her up in his arms. She'd definitely picked up some weight since coming to live with them, now having regular meals, but she was still on the light side.

John let out a sigh. "I can't believe Harry… I doubt she even realizes what a wonderful young woman she lost."

"Tsk. Wonderful."

"Sherlock, if you'd actually try to not argue with her someday, you'd probably like her." He motioned to the door with a nod of his head. "Would you open that for me?"

"Of course. I live to serve." Sherlock droned as he opened the door that led back to the staircase.

"Honestly, what am I going to do with you…?"

I awoke the next morning in my bed, but no memory of how I got there. It dawned on me just a moment later, though, that I must have fallen asleep in the living room and Uncle John carried me to my room. A bit sheepishly, I walked upstairs where John and Sherlock sat, sipping away at their tea.

Uncle John grinned happily at me. "Good mornin'. Sleep well?"

"Yes. I did. Thank you for carrying me down."

"Actually, I tried doing that, but my back was having none of it. Sherlock took you down."

"What?" I looked over the detective, who rolled his eyes at me.

"If I hadn't, you'd have been complaining about being stiff and sore." He told me plainly, but John and I just looked at one another. We could both see that was just a cover up. I couldn't help but grin widely, finding it nice that he cared.

Xxx

After breakfast, Uncle John hailed a cab for us to take us to what would soon be my new school. When we arrived, it took us a few minutes, but we made it to the office with little effort. Upon entering the main office, the secretary led us to the principal.

"Dr. John Watson." The man called happily, as though my uncle were an old friend.

"Mr. Ian Reynolds, it's good to see you again. This is my niece Alice. Alice, this is Mr. Reynolds. He was a teacher's assistant when _I_ was your age."

"And look where it got me!" the man cried happily, pulling each of us in a hug. "It's good to have you." He let us go and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk.

We each sat down and for an hour we talked about my schedules and what I hoped to achieve, because a twelve year old knows what she wants to be when she grows up. Once the student interview-type portion was done, the two shooed me away, saying that I should explore the grounds and then walk home. After all, it was only 2 blocks away, though Uncle John hadn't realized it.

To be honest, I was too tired to care for getting lost in a school, so I headed straight back home. It was fun watching around the bustling streets of London. I could hear Big Ben chime in the background, adding to the magic of it all.

Well, until I smacked into someone.

Papers flew around me and a pair of glasses fell onto my lap as we both fell back. The man and I both groaned, but I immediately panicked after.

"I am so sorry! I should have been watching where I was going. Oh! Here!" I told the man with dark curly hair as I handed back the large, thick glasses. When he put them on, he smiled at me with crooked teeth and near-black eyes.

"You're fine, darling. It was my fault. Are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Here let me help you." I began to pick the stuff up for him, finding more books than even his arms should be able to hold. Once it was all picked up, we stood, but I didn't let him go just yet. "How far are you going? I could help carry these if you want."

His pale smile grew, but he didn't come off as creepy at all. More happily surprised if anything. "That would be lovely. Thank you." He looked at our hands and chuckled. "I'd shake your hand, but sorry. Anywho, I'm Jimmy."

"Jimmy?" I asked, testing the sound. It was odd for a thirty-some man, but it wasn't awful, so I shrugged. "I'm Alice."

"A pretty name. It looks like you." He shook his head. "I mean, you look like an Alice. It's suiting."

I giggled. "I understand. I mess up like that while talking a lot."

He gave a breathy, relieved chuckle. "Sorry, most people aren't as understanding of me and my ways."

"Well that's ridiculous. After all, you're only human."

"Why thank you. You're very not boring."


	3. Chapter 3

Last chapter of the week, I promise ;)

Chapter 3

"I'll be in Minsk, Belarus for a night. I'll be back for tea tomorrow night. Maybe the night after depending on the meeting goes." Sherlock called early in the morning before heading out the front just two weeks after I'd been signed up for school. I groaned from my bed. It was my first day at my new school, though I had so much more I wanted to do.

As I crawled up the steps to the kitchen, I called up to Uncle John, "Couldn't I just skip school? I could work on cases with you and Sherlock."

When I entered, he looked at me, wondering if I actually said that. "Right. I'm going to have a twelve-year-old girl solve murders and see dead bodies on a weekly basis." he deadpanned.

"Why not! It's no worse than what's on the telly!"

"Except this is _real._ Darling, I don't think you get that. This job is not…It takes a certain level of maturity and I don't think you're anywhere near it."

"I'm not a little kid anymore!"

"Well, the answer is no. Now come on. We're grabbing a bite to eat from the restaurant."

"This is so unfair!" I yelled before going downstairs.

"God, she's not even a teenager…"

XXX

Now in year 7 mathematics, I lightly tapped my pencil on my notepad, bored out of my mind. Well, that, and I was annoyed at the itchy grey skirt I was forced to wear. At my old school, we had cute, comfy plaid skirts instead.

Trying to distract myself, I thought about some of the people I'd met since moving in with John. I'd met Miss Donovan, a grouchy girl from the Scotland Yard. I only met her once since John and Sherlock had a quick meeting with Detective Lestrade, but I'd be happy never meeting her again. I didn't like how she called Sherlock "freak."

Of course, a lot of the police were like that apparently. One of them had once called him a psychopath, I heard. I mean, clearly he's a high-functioning sociopath!

But then there was Jimmy. I sadly haven't seen him since. He was nice, though. After taking the books to his apartment that he shared with his sister, who I sadly didn't get to meet, he asked me if I wanted to stay for tea. Of course I told him I'd love a cup, but I had to get home or my uncle would worry. Though I wasn't had to convince to stay for a minute. We ended up talking about nonsense. Finally, he asked if I'd heard of Sherlock Holmes. I'd laughed a bit to myself and nodded.

_"Yes. Yes, you could say that."_

_He smiled curiously at me. "That means?"_

_"He's my uncle's flatmate, actually. I guess that in turn he's _my_ flatmate. Oh, but we're on separate floors and he hates me anyway. Well, he acts like he does. John and I aren't convinced…anymore."_

_He laughed. "He sounds like quite the character."_

_"You have no idea."_

_"Tell me more about him. I've always been curious. I mean, I read his partner, John Watson's, blogs."_

_"You read my uncle's blogs? People _actually_ do that?"_

_"Of course! It's so entertaining."_

_I chuckled at the effeminate man and nodded. "Well, it is that. Now let's see…Sherlock Holmes…Where do I begin?"_

He'd listened with excitement as I told him all these stories from my life with the famous detective. Yes, stories. Plural. Believe me; it is never boring with that man around.

XXX

I had been walking back home from school when I heard a voice from across the street calling out to me. "Alice? Alice, is that you?"

I turned to see familiarly dark curly hair adorned on a ghostly pale head. We waved at each other and I motioned to the crosswalk just a few meters away. When I got there, I ran across and hugged the man excitedly.

"Jimmy! It's good to see you!"

He let me go and took a step back. "It's good to see you, too, Love. How have you been? What is with that itchy looking skirt?" The last question was obviously an afterthought.

"Uniform. It's _ridiculously_ itchy. I miss my old skirts." I told him honestly.

He laughed and pointed towards where his apartment was. "Well, you could grab some more tea and you could almost surely fit in one of Chloe's bottoms. What would you say to that?" He smiled warmly, and it was clear that he really didn't have any intent with me other than possible friendship, but I shook my head.

"I'm sorry. My uncle would get worried. If I come back from the school late again, he might start walking me. I had to tell him I got lost."

"What, am I not worth mentioning?"

"No! No, he just… With only me, he thinks the entire world wants to murder or generally harm every little girl. If he found out I was having tea with a man I'd just met, he'd go off the walls."

He laughed again, almost maniacally. "Well, that's how good fathers tend to be, isn't it? Speaking of, where's yours?"

"Never had one. Well, obvious I _did, _but I grew up with two mums. Well, one left four months ago or so, but that's beside the point."

For the first time, he actually looked slightly surprised. "Your mum left?"

"Yeah. Well, she's left a few times, but she always made it clear to me she'd come back, but not to tell Mother. This time she left without a trace that she was ever even there. No note, no nothing." I bit my lip and forced back a smile. "But that was a while ago now. Besides, I know she wasn't leaving me. Mum and Mother were always fighting and I'd console Mum. I'm not surprised that she decided that enough was enough."

Jimmy bit the inside of his lip a bit, the sympathy and even some touches of anger and guilt rolling through his eyes. "If it helps, my mum left me as well. I was a young kid, but I still remember it."

I put a hand on his arm comfortingly. "I'm sorry. If my opinion means anything, I think you still turned out well."

He nodded. "Thank you." He cleared his throat and smiled, putting his arm out in the direction I'd been walking. "Want me to walk you home?"

XXX

After quite a lot of small talk made from observations or people, places, or things, Jimmy and I had made it back to Baker Street. When we were in front of 221B, I gave him a quick goodbye hug and headed inside. I went upstairs to find Mrs. Hudson in the living room, but it appeared the boys were gone.

"Who was that, deary?"

"Who?"

"That man you were walking with. The one with the glasses?"

"Oh. Yeah. I just accidentally bumped into him the other day, and then again today. He happened to be walking through anyway, so we walked together and talked a bit; keeping each other company."

"Oh, how nice. What's his name?"

"Jimmy. He is such a sweetheart. Very warm and friendly."

"Well, as long as you're careful, dear. Would you like some tea?"

"That'd be lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."


	4. Chapter 4

Hey y'all! If you've come this far, maybe you like the story, maybe you're not sure. Either way, please let me know whatcha think down below, won't ya? Even just something quick is great!

So, now onto...

Chapter 4

It'd been a week without a real case for the boys. It was driving Sherlock up the wall. He wouldn't even go anywhere.

Finally on a Friday night, he broke. Uncle John and I had been chatting in my room about how school was going and he asked about the new friends I made. Well, despite my efforts, it only proved futile since I was the girl that lives with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. However, to ease some of his worries, I told him about Eliza and Kristy, who were random girls in my class I'd picked to make up stories about.

But, that was not the point. The point was that Uncle John had just told me goodnight when gunshots came from upstairs. He and I both raced up the stairwell to the living room and kitchen, only to find a certain sociopath laying down his chair and aiming a gun at the wall which he painted a spray smiley face on.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" John yelled.

"Bored."

"_What?"_

"Bored!" Sherlock stood and shot again. "Bored!" Again. "_Bored._" John ran over and took the gun, immediately removing the clip as Sherlock continued, "I don't know what's gotten into the criminal classes."

"So you take it out on the wall?" I asked him.

John furrowed his brows. "That was my line."

"Oh, the wall had it coming." Sherlock muttered, standing before his shotty masterpiece before jumping into a lying down position on the couch.

"What about that Russian case?"

"Belarus-open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time."

"Oh, shame." John and I told him, mine quite a bit sarcastic.

Uncle John headed into the kitchen and asked, "Anything in? I'm starving." I heard the sound of the fridge opening. "Oh…!" was heard before it once again closed. After a moment, the fridge open and closed again and he whispered. "There's a head." This time louder he said, "A severed head."

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock responded.

"No, there's a head in the fridge."

I poked my head around to grin at my uncle. "Can I see?"

"N-no… No! Sherlock, there's a head!"

"Yes?"

"A bloody head!"

"Well, where else am I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you?"

John let out a breath and went from foot to foot. "Well…"

"I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death."

"Cool." I muttered, earning grin from Sherlock.

"Don't-don't encourage him!"

"I see you've written up the taxi driver case." Sherlock said to John.

"Ah-uh-uh. Yes."

"'A Study in Pink.' Nice."

"Ah, well, you know; pink lady, pink case, pink phone- There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

"Ahm…" Sherlock began, so I finished with him, "No." His eyes glanced back at me disapprovingly, but I gave him a cheeky grin. This caused his eyes to roll.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" He looked over at John and quoted, "'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds, what's incredible is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.'"

"Now hang on, I didn't mean that in a-"

"Oh, you mean spectacularly ignorant in a nice way? Look, it doesn't matter to me who's prime minister or who's sleeping with who…"

"First off, there's a little girl _right there_, second, or that the earth goes around the sun."

"You didn't know that the earth went around the sun?"

"Oh God, that again. It's not important!"

John was flabbergasted. "Not importa-? It's primary school stuff. _How_ can you not know that?"

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

"Deleted it?" John and I asked him.

Sherlock sat up and pointed as his head. "Listen, this is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful- _really_ useful. Ordinary people _fill_ their heads with all kinds of rubbish and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

"But it's the solar system!" Uncle John said, still not comprehending.

"Alice, what do you think?" Sherlock asked me.

"I think it makes sense."

"Thank you!"

John gave me a dangerous look before going back to the floor. "Okay, again- _But it's the SOLAR. SYSTEM."_

"Oh~ Hell! What does that matter?! So we go around the sun! If we went around the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog, or better still, stop inflicting your opinion on the world." Sherlock laid back down with his back to us and brought his knees to his chest. Uncle John stood a half moment later and opened the door, earning surprise from Sherlock.

"Where are you going?"

"Out! I need some air!" John yelled at him. "Excuse me. Sorry." He told Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, sorry, love." She came over as I glared at Sherlock, lightly knocking the open door. "Yoo-hoo. Have you two had a little domestic?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and stood like a hormonal teenage girl before walking to the window. Mrs. Hudson pushed some stuff around on the island/table and set more in its place. To no one in general she muttered, "It's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more."

Sherlock looked out the window and muttered. "Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful… Isn't it _hateful?_"

"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder, that'll cheer you up!"

"Can't come too soon."

"Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall?! I'm putting this on your rent young man." She said before storming off. In turn, I stormed towards him.

"Just because you don't like what it says, doesn't mean you can say things like-"

Suddenly, an explosion sounded and the windows shattered. Sherlock put his arms and body over me to protect me from the worst of it. Car alarms sounded in the background and I heard him groan from the impact.

For a full minute, I was completely off track and found it hard to even breathe for few seconds. When I finally understood what happened, I pushed myself so I was face to face with Sherlock, checking to see if his head took any forward damage. His eyes were closed, causing worry for me.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, are you alright?" I whispered hoarsely in panic.

"I'm fine. You know, other than the fact that I was just knocked down from the force of an explosion and have shards of glad on and around me." He opened his eyes and gave a sarcastic smile, which I returned with an unamused glare.

"Well, are you able to stand?"

"Ahem. Have you forgotten that there are shards of glass on and around me? I don't have shoes on. Physically, I can stand. Situationally, no."

"Right… So…How much pain are you in?"

"Surprisingly little, actually. How about you? Are you alright?"

"Fine. Um…Thank you for, um, protecting me."

"Well, there is some human instinct in me."

"Still…thank you."

"Oh! Sherlock! Alice!" Mrs. Hudson called as she came in. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock consoled her. "Would you mind sweeping around and on us, though?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course! I'll be right back!" she told us, leaving once more to get a broom. It'd taken the paramedics and all two minutes to get to the scene, checking to see if anyone needed anything. Other than bruising, though, Sherlock and I were fine, so they let us go to our rooms so we could go back to what we should be doing- sleeping.

Ello again! As you can probably tell, we're now getting into S1E3. This chapter is mostly to show how Sherlock and Alice, despite their bickering, don't _actually_ hate each other. It's more like a brother-sister, close-older/younger cousin relationship. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the late update, I was super busy yesterday and I was on and going from 9 am to 10:30 pm and I was exhausted and I is sowwy ~

But, here's...

Chapter 5

My brain was still electrified from the experience of almost possibly dying or something else horrible; so even when I did fall asleep, it was only for a half hour at a time. Finally at about seven-thirty in the morning, I decided to get dressed and start the day. Pulling out the emergency 50 £ that Uncle John gave me, should I need money and he wasn't around, I went down the road and past the police to where we always had breakfast, ordering my usual flapjacks with scrambled eggs and bacon.

When I came back from breakfast, I ran up the stairs to say good morning to Sherlock, only to see him just sitting down with a –to be entirely honest- eerie looking man with an umbrella cane and far too formal a suit. I paused at the doorway; the smile that had adorned my face vanished. I looked between the two questioningly, pausing the third time I looked at Sherlock.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Alice?" the unknown man asked me, snapping my gaze to meet his. "It's alright. I just came to speak with Sherlock."

"Alice, this is my brother Mycroft." Sherlock explained. As I studied Myrcroft, or should I say Mr. Holmes, I felt goose bumps erupt through me. I didn't like him. Something seemed off about him, like you would imagine with a serial killer or such person.

"It's good to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I just came up to say good morning to Sherlock."

"You don't call him Mr. Holmes as well?"

I shook my head. "I suppose I never felt the need. He seemed above such things."

Mycroft tilted his head in confusion. "So you call him Sherlock…_out of_ respect?"

"Yes, sir. Not that I call you Mr. Holmes from lack of. It just…differs between persons."

Mycroft nodded and looked away from me. When I turned to Sherlock, he gave me a slight smile and nodded his he nodded his head once, showing he was proud of me. I grinned, liking the feeling of having made him proud.

"Well, I suppose I should go and let you two discuss what it is you needed to." I concluded before bowing my head once.

"That would be wonderful. Thank you, Alice." Mycroft told me, causing me to flinch as he said my name like a poison. I simply nodded and left, a cold sensation running through me as I went up to Uncle John's room to watch some telly.

XXX

They had been talking upstairs for at least an hour when I heard the front door open. John called for Sherlock and me hurriedly, so I ran down.

"Alice? Sherock? Sherlock!" He called up again. I came down before he entered the living room and he pulled me into a relieved hug. "God…" He then remembered Sherlock and went to the living room, only for the consulting detective to be plucking the strings of his violin.

"John."

"I saw it on the telly. You okay?"

"Me, what? Oh." Sherlock glanced around and remembered it as if he hadn't been blasted into a little girl and onto the floor. "Yes. Fine. Gas leak apparently." He looked back to Mycroft. "I can't."

"Can't?"

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."

"Nevermind you usual trivia. This is of national importance."

Sherlock plucked a string a bit harder. "How's the diet?" he asked harshly. I put a hand to my mouth to hold back the laughter.

"_Fine._" Mycroft told him, sending a slight glare my way. I stiffened up and hung my head. He then glanced over to my uncle. "Perhaps you can get through to him, John."

"What?"

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft explained, earning a pout from Sherlock and me. I didn't exactly know what that word was, but it didn't sound nice.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock mumbled.

"No, no,no,no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so…" He stopped, but we glanced at him with interest. He especially studied me a moment before looking back to his brother. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this, it requires…_leg work._" He told us as if walking were a disease. This caused Sherlock to pluck a string wrong and look around in annoyance. His eyes met mine and he made a face at me, grinning slightly as I giggled.

"Well, how's Sarah, John? How was the Lilo?" Sherlock asked. (A/N: For you fellow Americans, a Lilo in England is an air mattress. It's like asking for a Kleenex or Chapstick. Both are specific brands, but it's just asking for a facial tissue or lip balm.)

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa."

The younger of the two looked at my uncle again. "Oh, yes. Of course."

"How- Never mind."

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became…_pals._" Mycroft commented, even glancing at me a bit as if I had something to do with it. I just shook my head. I really didn't do anything. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I assume."

"Well, I'm never bored. The times I might become so this rascal stops it." John answered.

"Good. That's good isn't it?" Mycroft said with a grin that sent chills down my spine. He was like a shark, playing with his victims. He then stood, the smile gone, and tried to hand Sherlock a file. Of course, the man wouldn't take it, instead playing with the bow of the violin. With an eye roll, Mycroft limped over to John and put the file in front of him.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends, civil servant, found dead on the tracks on the track of Battersea station with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?"

"Seems the logical assumption."

"But?"

"But?" Mycroft repeated with a grin.

"But you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident."

"The MoD is working on a new missile defense system. The Bruce Partington, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

"That wasn't very clever." I muttered along with my uncle. I glanced at Sherlock to find him enjoying this too much.

"It wasn't the only copy." Mycroft told us with an unamused grin. "But it is secret…and missing."

"Top secret?" John asked.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick and we can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." He turned to his brother. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over." Mycroft turned to John with a smile. "Bye, John. See you very soon." He turned me with tight lips. "Alice." He finished before walking away slowly. However, he sped up some as Sherlock started to purposely play his violin horribly.

"Why'd you lie?" John asked. "You've got nothing on. Not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock asked at the same time I said, "He's creepy and snobbish."

"Oh. I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere."

Saving Sherlock from answering, his phone rang. "Sherlock Holmes." He answered in monotone, sitting up and taking in a deep breath at what the person was saying. "Of course. How could I refuse?" He was standing in an instant, the phone having beeped for end of call. "Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" Sherlock explained, wondering why John wasn't up yet as well.

"I-If you want me to."

"Course. I'd be lost without my blogger." He glanced down at me with a smirk. "…and his niece."

I grinned from ear to ear and reached for my sweater. "Thank you!"

"Hold on! Sherlock, you know what they call you in for. Murder. I don't think-"

"He said it's just a note for me. She can tag along, can't she? Look at her."

My uncle did so and noticed that I'd pulled my best puppy dog face. He just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, alright."


	6. Chapter 6

Hello! Sorry this update is so late at night. Please forgive me. 030 Anyway, also, please leave me a review! I feel like I'm writing to a wall! (I know. It's a lot to ask of you. Forgiveness AND a review? But, I think you all can manage ;) )

Chapter 6

It was a forty minute drive to the station. We were pretty much silent, but half an hour through, Uncle John decided to bring up what I'd said earlier.

"You think Mr. Holmes is creepy and snobbish?" he asked. It clearly just dawned on him what I'd said.

"Well…yes. I do. There's something off about him. I can't put my finger on it."

"He's with the government. Of course there's something wrong with him." Sherlock muttered. I bit my lips together to hold back a grin.

When we arrived at the cop shop, the semi-famous duo and I headed in. Lestrade had met us half way, knowing exactly where Sherlock and John would go. When he noticed me, he seemed to have half a thought to be confused, but brushed it off, putting his mind back on track.

"So, you like the funny cases don't you? The… _surprising_ ones."

"Obviously." Sherlock deadpanned.

"You're going to love this. That explosion…"

"Gas leak, yes?"

"No."

"No?" Sherlock asked as we began into Lestrade's office.

Lestrade had told him, "No, made to look like one." when my arm was grabbed by an arrogant looking copper.

"Hold it there, little bird. I don't think you're supposed to go in." he said in an effort to belittle me.

"Excuse me?" I told him as Lestrade told the two who brought me along about a strong box that survived the explosion.

"Hold that thought." Sherlock told him before turning to the office who kept me out. "Sir, I should ask that you release my newest acquaintance. She really might come in handy."

The officer's eyes widened and he let me go. "Right. Of course. My apologies, Mr. Holmes, Miss…"

"Watson. Alice Ophelia _Watson_. Niece of _John_ Watson. Remember that." I walked into the office with power.

"Alright, can we get back to the letter?" the D.I. asked.

"Of course. Wait, you haven't opened it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've X-rayed it, it's not booby trapped."

"How reassuring." Sherlock took the letter over the lamp so he could study it better. After many seconds, he finally spoke. "Nice stationary. Bohemian. Form the Czech Republic. No finger prints?"

"No."

"…She used a fountain pen. Parker Duofold, iridium nid."

"She?" My uncle and I asked.

"Obviously."

"…Obviously…" My uncle muttered, but I couldn't help questioning it. I kept quiet for the moment, though. He was thinking.

Sherlock gently opened the letter, carefully retrieving the contents. Inside was a pink IPhone.

"But th-that's the phone. The pink phone."

"What from 'The Study in Pink'?"

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like- 'A Study in Pink'? You read his blog?"

"Of course I do. We all do. Do you _really_ not know that the earn goes around the sun?"

Agent Donovan snickered behind us while waiting for the fax machine the copy her papers. I couldn't help but send a deadly glare her way. Even Uncle John had shaken his head at her, so I decided to put in my two cents.

"Because that's so much more important than knowing which actor would play the hottest officer?" I asked her, having overheard her talking about it with another police woman the last time I was here.

She just glared back at me before taking her papers and storming out.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new." Sherlock informed us, but not with the same confidence as before. "Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means you blog has a far wider readership."

"You have one new message." The phone told us before a series of five beeps came through.

"Is that it?" Uncle John asked.

"No, that's not it." Sherlock all but whispered, staring at the phone. The three of us came over. I saw it once and my heart already began to race.

Lestrade spoke first. "What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips?"

"It's a warning."

"A warning?" Uncle asked.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips- five _pips._ They're warning us it's going to happen again. I've seen this place before…"

"221C." I told him as I trembled ever so slightly.

"What did you say?" Sherlock asked me.

"It's 221C. I took that photo but with Mother's newest phone. They…the company cancelled her plan because she wouldn't pay. I thought I'd take it since the IPhones have good cameras. It wasn't that phone, though. I don't…"

"We need to go." Sherlock ordered as he already headed out.

"H-Hang on. What's going to happen again?" John asked.

"BOOM!" Sherlock explained.

XXX

It'd taken forty-five minutes, but we were finally at the door of 221C with Mrs. Hudson and the keys. I was still shaking like a leaf. I felt ill in the stomach, wondering how on earth anyone could have gotten that photo.

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock? When you first came to see about your flat." Mrs. Hudson asked.

"The door's been opened. Recently."

"No, it can't be. That's the only key. You know, I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect, but that's the curse of basements. I had once when I was first married. Black mold all up the wall." She said in a humorous tone.

"Alice already went in, by the way. It's not that protected." Sherlock informed her before we closed the door behind us.

Once we were in the living room of the flat, we saw a single pair of shoes. They were clearly worn a lot, but taken care of. They weren't there when I was just two weeks ago.

As Sherlock walked around the shoes some, he ordered, "Tell me about how you got in."

"Um, well…I'd gotten bored one day while two were out and I found this door. So…So I, um, I decided to help out Mrs. Hudson. As predicted, I found where she kept the key for this flat, so when she was gone for a minute, I grabbed them and my phone. I thought about making up some horror story to go with the flat it was so creepy. To help with that, I took the picture. I… I don't know how anyone could've gotten it…" Sherlock was now on the floor, studying the shoes.

That's when the phone began to ring.


	7. Chapter 7

Something that has recently come to my attention is plagiarism. My story personally is not plagiarized, I was reading another one that was. This was one of my favorite stories, and sadly, the plagiarizer began to believe the lies as well. They even began to write chapters that were actually by them. However, because there were plagiarized chapters at all, it had to b taken down. Now, the whole point was a social experiment anyway, but it ended up becoming a very popular story and everyone who liked the story, the original writer, and the plagiarizer were all hurt in this process. Personally, I felt betrayed and flabbergasted that this happened, and I wasn't even the writer. I hope that this helps to stop anyone who might be thinking to do plagiarism, even if for what you believe is an innocent cause.

_Recap..._

"Um, well…I'd gotten bored one day while two were out and I found this door. So…So I, um, I decided to help out Mrs. Hudson. As predicted, I found where she kept the key for this flat, so when she was gone for a minute, I grabbed them and my phone. I thought about making up some horror story to go with the flat it was so creepy. To help with that, I took the picture. I… I don't know how anyone could've gotten it…"

Sherlock ignored me and got on the floor, studying the shoes.

That's when the phone began to ring.

Chapter 7

We all had to prepare ourselves for whatever might be said on the phone. Shakily, I reached my hand out to Uncle John's, who held it tightly in his. I clung to his arm as Sherlock answered.

"Hello?"

I heard the familiar sound of a woman crying. As I listened closer, I realized that it wasn't just any woman crying. "Mum?" I asked, letting go of my uncle and tripping over myself to Sherlock's side.

"_Alice?_" she asked before gasping and making a sound like she was scorning herself. "_Hel-hello…Sexy. A-and… Alice. I-I'll…forgive her f…for going o-off script since i-it's…you."_

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked.

"_I-I've s-s-sent y-you a little puzzle…Just to say 'hi'."_

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"_I'm not… crying. I'm… typing. And this… stupid? bitch is reading it out."_ She began to cry more, which fueled my anger.

"Stupid?! Mum, you're not stupid. Whoever you are typing this-"

A hand clamped over my mouth and Uncle John whispered lowly, "This person is a killer. Don't anger him."

"The curtain rises." Sherlock muttered.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"Nothing."

I removed John's hand form my mouth. "No, that's my mum on the phone crying. What did you mean?" I hissed.

"I've been expecting this for some time…" Sherlock told us. Tears were now stinging at my eyes in anger, fear, and guilt.

_"Twelve… hours to solve… my puzzle… Sherlock… or… I'm going… to be… so… naughty?"_ She whimpered some more but it grew quieter, so I knew she was about to hang up.

"No… No, Mum! Bomber, don't you dare-!" I screamed, but the phone began to do an even tone, saying that she hung up. "No… God, bloody no!" I screamed again before going limp in John's arms. He dropped me down and I cried on my hands and knees quietly. Sherlock ignored me and picked up the sneakers that were laid on the floor for us.

After taking a moment to cool off, I began to realize that Uncle John would want me to stay here to calm down completely. Shaking my head, I stood up as Sherlock made sure that the shoes wouldn't blow up in his face. I was going to go. They couldn't stop me.

XXX

After much arguing, Lestrade went back to the station and us three went to the hospital for testing. I watched for a while as Sherlock worked with the shoes, trying his best to gather information.

"Where do you think she is? Do you think she might know something?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"The woman on the phone. The crying woman."

"My mum." I corrected.

"Oh she doesn't matter, doesn't know anything. She's just a hostage. No leads there."

Uncle John put a hand on my mouth before telling Sherlock, "For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads."

"You're not going to be much use to her; either of you. Her best bet is us focusing on the case, not her."

"A-Are they _trying_ to trace the call?" John asked.

"Bomber's too smart for that. Pass me my phone."

Uncle looked around. "Where is it?"

"Jacket."

"Unbelievable." I hissed before heading to the door.

"Where are you going, young lady?"

"Vending machine." I answered before storming out.

I was far too on edge and the fact that Sherlock didn't even care about my _mum_ was not helping me. I couldn't have been gone for two minutes. I was almost back in with my M&M's when I saw Jimmy exiting the room Sherlock and John were in.

"Jimmy?" I called. He froze and smiled at me, but looked a bit paranoid about my being here. "What are you doing here? Where's your glasses?"

"Ah, contacts came in a few days ago. And ah, my girlfriend works here so I thought I'd drop by. What about you?"

"Here with my uncle. He's working, not…yeah. Uhm, I'll let you go then. Sorry."

"Oh, not a problem. I just didn't expect to see you." With one last wave, he was gone.

"He's not _gay._" The new woman in the room tried desperately. "Why do you have to spoil-?! He's not."

"With that level of personal grooming?"

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair!"

"No, you wash your hair. There's a difference. No, no. The tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired clubbers' eyes, then there's his underwear…"

"His _underwear?"_ the girl asked.

"Visible above the waistline- very visible. Very particular brand. That plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here and I'd say you better break it off now and save yourself the pain.

My heart began to hurt for the girl as she looked between the two men and ran off. Naturally I chased after her as she ran into the nearby women's restroom. She had tears falling down her poor little cheeks.

"M-Miss?" I called, causing her to jump and wipe the tears from her face.

"I-I'm fine, little girl. Run along. Don't worry."

"I was a bit quiet, but I saw most of what happened. I'm Alice, John's niece."

"Molly. Molly Hooper."

"Molly, I live with Sherlock. Believe me, I know he's…A donkey has more tact." She laughed at that and nodded. "But do know that he says what he does because he cares. He doesn't go about it well. Ever. But he does care. And he is trying. I've noticed over my time staying with him that Uncle John is making him more human…bit by bit."

"I know it's just…difficult."

I tilted my head in confusion. "Wait… do you…_ like_ him?"

"He is good looking… and… _smart._"

"There is that…" A realization came to mind. "Oh."

"Oh?"

I grinned. "Oh."

She frowned in horror. "Oh no."

"I think…"

"Don't say it."

"I think that Sherlock tried to convince you he was gay because-"

"'Dost my ears deceive me?'" she asked, quoting the Genie from _Aladdin_.

"They do not! I wish you a happy life together."

She squealed quietly and hugged me. "Thank you, Alice! And thank you for coming to check up on me, see if you could help…"

"Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Hooper."

"Molly is fine. Don't worry about it. Now, you should get back to your uncle."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Go on." I nodded and left. When I returned, Uncle John was holding up one of the shoes.

"How did I do?"

"Well, John. Really well. Except you missed almost everything of _importance_. Alright, now, Alice- your turn."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on now. This will actually be good. You weren't here to listen to what your uncle gave. You have a completely fresh mind."

"Right. So just…see what I can get from the shoes?" He nodded in response, so I walked over and took the shoe from John. "Right, well… They belong to a teenager with really big feet."

"How do you know?"

"What other kind of idiot wears this type of shoe?" I asked earning a smirk from the detective. He nodded at me to continue, so I did. "Clearly loved these sneakers. Wore them constantly, but took good care of 'em. Probably expensive with just how well they kept the darn things clean. Wait-no. Well, yes, but not as long as I thought. The sole is worn really well, but because he exercised on concrete or something a lot. If you go on enough dirt, you can scrub all you want but it's not going to get clean. So what athlete has big feet? Like _really_ big feet?"

"You… have potential. You have completely the wrong reasons, but…Let me see…The owner loved these. Scrubbed them cleaned- whitened where they got discolored. Changed the laces three-no four times. Even so there are traces of his flakey skin where his fingers have come into contact with them so he suffered from eczema. The shoes were well worn, mostly on the inside which means the owner had weak arches. British made, 20 years old."

"20 years?" John questioned.

"They're not retro, they're original. Limited edition, two blue stripes, 1989."

"But there's still mud on them. They- they look new!"

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex with London mud overlaying it."

"How do you know?"

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too, so the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex 20 years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?" I asked.

"Something bad. He loved those shoes, remember? He'd never leave them _filthy._ Wouldn't let them go unless he had to. So a child with big feet gets- oh. Carl. Powers."

"Sorry, who?"

"Carl. Powers, John."

"What is it?"

"It's where it began."


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys! So, quick note, ummm...We're catching up on my available chapters (I just finished 12) and um... I have a very very crazy busy life, so it's possible that here in a little over a month or so it will not be updates every Monday. But! For now, it will continue as planned, so here's...

_Recap..._

"So what happened to him?" I asked.

"Something bad. He loved those shoes, remember? He'd never leave them _filthy._ Wouldn't let them go unless he had to. So a child with big feet gets- oh. Carl. Powers."

"Sorry, who?"

"Carl. Powers, John."

"What is it?"

"It's where it began."

Chapter 8

Sherlock had us run to get a cab. Once inside, he began to explain to us who Carl Powers was.

"1989- young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school's sports tournament. Drowned in the pool. Tragic accident. You wouldn't remember it, why should you, John? Alice, you weren't alive and no one's spoke of it since."

"But you remember?"

"Yes."

"Something fishy about it?"

"Nobody thought so. Nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers."

"Started young, didn't you?"

"The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. There was something wrong- something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What was it?"

"His shoes. They weren't there. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes…" He picked up the bag with the old trainers in it. "Until now."

XXX

We arrived back at the flat and Uncle John had sent me to my room for the time being; something about wanting me to relax as much as I can. Of course, I was finding it hard to do so. After twenty minutes, I called up to him that I was just going to walk it off.

I ended up stopping in a coffee shop on the same street as my school. Once I had my tea and biscuit, I sat at one of the little tables. My foot was violently tapping and a feeling of hopelessness was setting in. There was less than five hours left. If Sherlock didn't do this, than my mum was going to die along with so many others.

"Alice!" an all too familiar voice called happily. I looked up to see Jimmy walking over, so I forced a smile.

"Hey, it's good to see you, Jimmy." I told him with a happy tone of voice.

His smile lowered, easily seeing past the mask. "What's wrong?"

"Ah…heh. My mum, the one who I told you about that left… I heard her voice for the first time in months. She um…she was crying."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I, um… I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it."

"What if we went back to my flat and then you told me? You really look like you could use a friend."

I looked straight into his warm brown eyes. I could see how genuinely concerned he was about me. The tears I'd been holding back starting to fill my eyes again and my throat felt like it was constricting. Finding myself unable to say anything without the tears falling, I nodded.

He had gently ushered me along back to his apartment. I let the tears fall freely as I explained to him everything about my mum and the phone call, and Sherlock's lack of sympathy. My entire world felt like it shredding.

"And o-only to make it worse, th-the-the bomber called me out by name and said that _because it was me_ he wouldn't kill her! I mean… What does that even mean? That I-I-I _know him?_ Or…maybe it's a her… Sherlock said it was a her, but…"

"But what?"

"I'm not so sure. I looked at the writing on the letter. It wasn't… I mean it was curly-cue, but it wasn't extremely feminine? I don't know how to explain it… I just really don't think it was a girl."

"Well… perhaps you have met the bomber. Now why would they seek out your mum?"

"I don't know…"

"Well, how many people know she left?"

My heart fell. "Five. You, Mother, Sherlock, Uncle, and… and Isaac."

"Who?"

"My case worker. He's been looking after me since I was a kid- making sure that my parents were taking good care of me. After a while he was told to drop the case, but he kept it up because he said I was like family to him and he wanted to be sure I was okay."

"Do you think…?"

"Who else could it be?"

A dangerous gleam came into Jimmy's eye. "Of course."

XXX

I decided to sit and chat with Jimmy for another hour or so before heading back. Having someone take the time to actually comfort me had made it all strangely seem better. When I was finally home, Sherlock was typing away at the computer excitedly.

"…from where he put the cream on his feet. That's why they had to go."

"So how do we let the bomber know?" Uncle John asked, glancing at me as he spoke to indicate that he knew about my presence.

"Get his attention."

"The killer kept the shoes…all these years?"

"Yes, meaning?"

"He's our bomber."

The pink phone began to ring and Sherlock put it on speaker. "_Well done…you. Come and…get me."_

"Where are you? Tell us where you are."

"_I'm…at the car park o-on Marylebone High Street."_

"Mum?" I asked through the phone. "Are you alright?"

_"Alice… God, I'm so sorry."_

"No, don't be. Just- Just let me know you're okay."

_"Yes. Yes, I… I'm fine."_

XXX

I was there in the front, watching as the bomb squad got the vest off my mother. Once she was out, they gave me access to the area she was in. I wrapped my arms around her waist, crying against her.

"I was so worried about you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I-I'm also sorry I didn't bring you with me. I wanted to, I did. I promise. I just didn't know where I was going to go. I just needed out. I am so sorry. Are you still with your mother?"

I shook my head. "She started drinking again, so they moved me in with Uncle John."

"Good… good… Do you like it there?"

"Yes. I do. Sherlock's a hassle at times… but it's been good."

"You live with Sherlock as well?"

"They're flatmates, yes."

"Good. As long as you're happy, I suppose."

I nodded. "I am. I'm so happy. So, incredibly happy."


	9. Chapter 9

I'll be honest, I got about 4 hours of sleep last night so I'mma make this a quick thank you and beg you to leave a review. Honestly, it's like I'm talking to a wall...

Chapter 9

"Excuse me?"

Uncle John rubbed his face between his hands. "The three of us have decided that it's not safe for you to be out there with us- with Sherlock and me."

"Three?"

"Your mum, Sherlock and I."

"Mum!" I said, looking over to where she stood.

"Honey, that man almost killed me. I don't want you stepping one foot of this house if he's what's out there. If he… If he knows you."

"Oh my _God._ You think you can just-just-just lock me in here?!"

"Yes. As your legal guardian, I know that _I_ can." John told me sternly.

"Sherlock!"

"Sorry, Alice, but these two are right. It's far too dangerous out there for a little girl."

"URG!" I ran down the stairs to my room, but before closing the door I yelled up, "You're not the only ones who can be _bloody HEROES!"_

XXX

It'd been just over six hours when the duo returned. I had kept myself locked up until now, but I ran up the stairs. If they were going to be getting a call, I wanted to be right there.

I looked over Sherlock's shoulder as he typed, _"Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Colombia."_

Seconds later, the phone rang. Sherlock put it on speaker as soon as possible. I gasped when I heard the voice say, _"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me, please!"_

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked.

_"I-I'm on the A41. The area where the two ways join together i-is right in front of me."_

The voice finally watched up to a face. "Oh my god… I-Isaac?"

_"Bloody… Alice, it's good to hear your voice. Tell me… Tell me how you've been. Please."_

I looked to Uncle John who nodded. "He wants to be distracted."

I nodded back at him and began to tell Isaac about my time here. I told him some of the same made-up stories I told John and Sherlock. I replayed some conversation between our little trio that were now fond memories. Of course, during this, we were riding to where he'd described. We'd just gotten there when the police took off the bomb vest Isaac wore.

"Isaac!" I yelled , trying to break past the cops.

"Alice?" At his response, the cop let me through and I ran over to Isaac. The man got down onto his knees and held me close. He'd said before I was like a sister to him, so I imagined that my being there was comforting. "Oh God, Alice… I'm so glad you're here. Christ… I'm so sorry…"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You're fine…"

He backed away some. "He didn't take you?"

I shook my head gently. "No…"

"He said… If I didn't say what he wanted me to, he'd not only kill me, but he'd kill you to. He said that he had you."

XXX

I didn't tell Sherlock or John. I told Isaac not to tell anyone. I was already a bit of a prisoner, but if the police and everyone knew what the bomber had told Isaac, I'd actually be put in jail for security reasons.

I jumped as someone knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Uncle John. He glanced at me curiously.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, just fine. Just a bit jumpy from the dream I had."

He bit his lip and came over to my bed, sitting next to me. "This must be scary for you. The people you care about being strapped in explosives for hours at hours at a time… But I promise, it's just a coincidence."

"You know that's a lie."

"Well…"

"From now on, I want to know."

"What?"

"I want to know what the people sound like. If one more person is someone I know, we'll know that the bomber saying it's just between Sherlock and him is a load of bull."

Uncle John looked at me worriedly. "You honestly think the bomber is also sending a message to you?"

I shook my head for a second, but paused, doing a half shrug and head tilt as a way to say 'Kind of'. "I think the bomber is someone I know."

"That preposterous. What makes you think that?"

"Only a select few people know that Mum left Mother and me."

"Like who?"

"Well, I thought Isaac was the bomber."

"What?! What made you think such a thing?!"

"He says I'm like a sister to him, so I thought he was avenging me. But, clearly that's not true?"

"Did… Did you tell anyone that you thought it was Isaac?"

"Only Jimme-." I stopped short. Uncle looked at me warningly.

"Who's Jim?"

"J-Jimmy from the… book store… He works there. While I look for new books he'll sometimes talk to me. I guess it's the whole 'tell your life's story to a stranger' type of deal."

"And you've never met him outside the book store?"

I thought he might eventually talk to or around Mrs. Hudson about this, so I three-quarter-truthed, "Once we bumped into each other on my way home from school, so he walked me home since he was heading this direction anyway."

"Dammit… And it didn't seem off to you that a grown man that you've never talked to with an adult who truly knows you around was approaching you in conversation?"

The eminent truth hit me like a brick. "Oh my God." My hands went to my mouth and I held my head in my hands.

"Exactly. Listen, you aren't leaving this house. Not for any reason."

I didn't even think to argue. I just asked, "Do you think Isaac was targeted because I had said that I thought he was the bomber, so Jimmy wanted to make it clear that it wasn't Isaac?"

"Yes, actually. I do. Now I'm going to talk to Sherlock to see what we do about this."

"I'm so sorry. I-I didn't… I didn't…"

"You're thirteen. You know what evil lies out there. You really should know better."

As He walked out I asked him, "You want me to be friendly and kind and make friends. How does that add up to always being a perfect judge of character? Is it my fault that he's a good actor?"


	10. Chapter 10

Quick thank you to you all for reading this I can't believe some of you are really reading this far, so much blessedness going on right here. Now, I'm going to leave the rest of my comments for later so I don't give anything away. Oh, but please note that a fair bit of this chapter looks exactly like what it is in the show, but know that there's some added stuff in there that's important info (or just little added quips for some, just for grins) so please don't just skip over it :)

Chapter 10

They next day, John and Sherlock went to breakfast with the promise of binging me back some flapjacks and links. Mum was back to her own apartment, so I was being left alone while they worked. Well, there was still Mrs. Hudson, but despite how nice she is, she's still an old lady.

Just as promised, Uncle had come by with some food for me. However, it was just a quick drop off. As John looked around for stuff, I decided to ask Sherlock about what he knew right now.

"So… Who died?"

"Connie Prince."

"What do you know about the person who called?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Uncle John didn't tell you?"

"Tell me that the bomber knows who you are and is specifically attacking people that you're familiar with? No, he didn't mention anything."

"How did- No. I won't ask…"

He grinned. "To answer you previous question, I'm not going to tell you. You shouldn't worry yourself with this. As far as you need to be concerned, this is between the bomber and me."

"Alright. Let's go." Uncle John said as he ran down the steps. "Stay out of trouble." He told me before the two left.

I swung my foot around and began back to my room with the food. "And here I am alone…"

XXX

They'd been gone for twelve hours including the drive back from the station. Well, Sherlock came back for a little while, but I was told to stay in my room. I thought they were being crazy protective, but what could I do about it?

When I came out and saw Sherlock and Uncle John, they looked crest fallen, like they'd failed miserably.

"You…You didn't solve the case on time?"

Sherlock shook his head. "We did, but...He changed his mind somehow, so…"

"Boom… boom." I finished.

XXX

I sat with John and Sherlock the next morning of April 1st. They watched the news as it talked about the explosion, saying it was a gas leak. As I heard more about the area, a tear leaked down my face.

"A whole block of flats… He certainly gets about." Uncle muttered.

"Well, obviously I lost that round. Although _technically_ I did solve the case, so…" Sherlock muted the telly, and a moment later, a thought hit him. "He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once he put himself in the firing line."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Well, usually he must stay above it all. He… organizes things but no one ever has direct contact."

"Hmm… What, like the Connie Prince murder? He arranged that, so people come to him to get their crimes fixed up, like what? Booking a holiday?"

"Novel."

I couldn't take it anymore; all this talking like innocent people hadn't just died. It was inhumane. I had to leave the room for my own sake of being. Of course, if I were to be honest, it also had a bit to do with my guilt. It was as though it were partially my fault that this was happening.

From my room, I began to hear my uncle and Sherlock fighting. John was mad that Sherlock didn't particularly care about the people whose lives were at stake. I honestly felt some relief that it wasn't just me.

About two minutes later, I heard the sound of John coming down the steps. There was a gentle knock on my door and then it opened to reveal the ash blonde man.

"You alright? I didn't even hear you leave." As he studied my face for just a split second, he noticed the tear lines and glassy eyes. "Christ, what happened?" he asked me while coming and sitting next to me.

"I know who he took as a hostage- the old woman."

"What? Who?"

"Ms. Jenkins." I told him. "Her name… It was Ms. Jenkins. I haven't seen her in two years, but I used to help her with her shopping."

He tensed up. "No official records or anything I assume?" I shook my head. "Didn't tell Jimmy about that?"

"No, sir."

"He's done his research, then."

"It's all my fault…" I whimpered before burrowing my face into his arm.

"Hey, no!" He repositioned so he could wrap his arms around my small frame and I cried into his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Alice Love. This man is a deranged lunatic. He's been killing for years and was going to completely crack anyway. This was in no way your fault, alright?"

"But- I just- She- He wouldn't have killed her if it weren't for me! None of those people would be dead!"

"Hey, you don't know that, Alice. You don't know that. Sh."

XXX

Naturally, Sherlock and Uncle had to go eventually to figure out the case. I didn't even want to leave the house at this point, so I didn't argue. I just curled up into my bed, a feeling of guilt eating me up inside. When they returned a few hours later, Lestrade was with them.

"What…?"

"This time it was a little girl." Lestrade explained. "Her name was Isabelle Johnson. Do you know that name?"

"Is she alright?" I asked, just wanting to be sure that I didn't get some little girl hurt.

"She's fine do you know her?"

"Um… Maybe? How old is she?"

"She's eight."

"Five years younger…?" The confusion on my face vanished. "Before Harriet… There was a family that considered adopting me. I was the girl up, you know? But…then a baby was put up for adoption and they chose her. The Johnson family. They must have named her Isabelle."

"So he chose her to avenge you." Sherlock muttered. "Well, no matter. That was the last one."

"Right…So… May I go for a quick walk? Just to clear my head, get some fresh air."

"Sure, love. Go on." John mumbled to me. I gave a slight bow of the head to the D.I. before heading out.

I stopped at the same coffee shop as before, getting a hot tea for myself. I suddenly felt like I shouldn't have left- like something was wrong. I considered hailing a cab, but thought better of it. It was just me being paranoid.

So, I got halfway through my tea and headed out, cup in hand. I thought it'd be nice for the walk back. I'd just made it to the next intersection when a government-style black car pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal Jimmy in a crisp black suit, a white button up, and a black tie that had tiny skulls on it. He grinned warmly, but fear filled me.

"Alice Love, want to go for a ride?"

Sherlock slowly walked into the pool room where Moriarty was to meet him. After waiting a moment he spoke saying, "Brought you a little 'getting to know you' present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance- all to distract me from this."

John walked out of one of the changing rooms is a large coat. He had an unamused smile on his face as he said, "Evening. This is quite a turn up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John, what the hell?"

"Bet you never saw this coming. What would you like me to make him say next? Gottle o' geer. Gottle o' geer. Gottle o'-"

"Stop it." Sherlock hissed.

"Nice this touch- the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson, too- stop his heart."

"Who are you?"

"I gave you my number…" Jimmy whined as he came down the hall from the opposite side. "I thought you might call." He did a check over Sherlock and asked, "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sherlock pulled out said gun, pointing it at Jim. "Both."

Jimmy smirked and walked closer. "Jim Moriarty. Hi~." When he received a look of confusion he asked, "Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point." He briefly glanced that the gun. "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the riffle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." He paused, now at the pool's halfway point. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock- just a teensy glimpse- of what I've got going on out there in the big, bad world. I'm a specialist you see. Like you."

"'Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister.' 'Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.'"

"Just so."

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant."

"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me- and no one ever will."

"I did."

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes, you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now!" Moriarty told him, the last bit in a sing-song voice. "I've shown you what I can do. I've cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." He began to slowly get closer again. "Although. I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died."

"That what people _DO!"_

"I will stop you."

"No you won't." Jim sang.

Sherlock to John. "You alright?"

After waiting a moment, Moriarty got right up to John. "You can talk, Johnny Boy. Go ahead." John glanced at the killer next to him and just nodded at Sherlock.

The detective offered the memory stick to Jim. "Take it."

"Hm? Oh, that. The _missile plans._" He took it and made a face. "Boring! I could have gotten them anywhere." The consulting criminal threw the memory stick into the pool.

At that time, John put him into a choke hold. "Sherlock, run!"

"Oh, good! Very good." The criminal told him.

"Just like that. Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up!"

"He's sweet, I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal. But oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson. Gotcha!" A red dot landed on Sherlock's forehead and the doctor jumped away. Once his suit was straightened out, Moriarty motioned to it. "Westwood." He rolled his eyes and got back on track. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you."

"Oh let me guess- I get killed."

"Kill you? Eh, no. Don't be obvious. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway- someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don't stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the _heart_ out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"But we both know that's not quite true. Well. I'd better be off. I have a cute little date to get to. So nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now? Right now."

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit… _disappointed_. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao_,_ Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty turned on slowly on his heel, not break eye contact with Sherlock until he physically couldn't.

"Catch you… later."

Jim pushed open the door and sang, "No you won't!" right at the last instant before it closed. Now alone, he pulled out his phone to see the unconscious Watson girl sleeping on the plane, waiting for him. "If I were to kill them now, I could keep her…" With a wicked grin, he called up his snipers, telling them the plan. He then went back through the door directly in front of where John and Sherlock would be, watching as they noticed all the red points on them. "Sorry boys! I'm so~ changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness." He shrugged apologetically. "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but…" He chuckled. "Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock responded, pulling up the gun. However, he then pointed down to where the C-4-covered jacket.

They stayed like that for the longest time. However, Moriarty's cell phone went off, _Staying Alive_ echoing around them. Moriarty groaned inwardly.

"Do you mind if I get that?"

"Oh no, please. You've got the rest of your life."

Grateful, Jim answered the phone. "Hello?"

"_Moriarty?"_ the man on the other end asked, fear causing a shake in his voice.

_"_ Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He mouthed an apology to Sherlock, who waved it off as fine. He then rolled his eyes in annoyance.

_"Sir… She… She's gone. Watson's gone."_

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" Jim screamed. He took a breath in and let it out calmly. "Say that again and know that if you are lying to me, I will find you and I will _skin_ you."

_"Moriarty, Sir, Watson escaped. She was dead asleep and the guard went to the restroom and when they came back, she was gone. Now, I better get off. She couldn't have gotten far."_

"WAIT!" He looked at the detective. "Sorry. Wrong day to die."

"Oh? Did you get a better offer?"

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock._"__He went back to the call and decided that he needed to say what was basically the exact opposite of what was going on just to buy him time.__ "_So if you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." With a snap of the consulting criminal's fingers, the snipers were gone.

XXX

Moriarty had just gotten back to the jet. Once he was in it, he saw a very angry little teenager tied and gagged on one of the chairs in the family room type area. He shook his head and made his way over.

"How uncivilized." He untied the gag, only for a series of curses to escape her mouth towards him. He cut her off by retying it. "Well, now I see why. Can you be quiet a moment? I have one last call to make before we fly."

The response he received was a sarcastic-sounding muffle.

With an amused grin, Jim dialed up the detective, knowing that this would be the last direct contact for a while.

_"Hello?"_ he heard on the other end.

"Sherlock! Sorry. It completely slipped my mind while we had our little moment together but I decided to get a bit of insurance. I'm sure I'm just going to have a blast with our little Alice. Ophelia. Watson."

Without waiting for a reply, he hit end.

And there was have it! After a while of dragging things on, we have the oddly long chapter 10. Can I just say that I had so much fun writing this, as twisted as that is? While I feel like some parts are a bit weaker than others, I feel pretty good about this chapter. Now, for those of you who have yet to review, I especially beg of you to let me know what you think! I've been posting for almost two months! (With how crazy it's been, I coulda sworn it was like four xD) Anyway, I just love you guys and I want to hear what you think and get to you guys. (Seriously, I reply to every review from this story and my others except like 1 or 2 reviews on some other stories because it was ridiculous reviews like 'this story sucks.' Anyway, but other than if I don't reply and it was actually a nice or constructive review please let me know, sometimes I think I reply and I don't actually or my computer is dumb and I write it all out and hit send and it doesn't actually send and all this possible junk but I really do want to get to know y'all!)

Quick question: Have I made it very clear that this is NOT an Alicex blah blah blah story? (Though later on I'm totally gonna test out some Sherlolly because that's just my OTP.) Because, I figured that making her like 12/13 would be good enough to make it clear that Moriarty is not obsessed with her romantically and that Sherlock caring about her is like in an uncle type way.

Now, I've wasted enough of your time. Have a good week my wonderful little (stealing this from a Moriarty page on facebook) victims!


	11. Chapter 11

Alright! Well, here we are at my second to last finished chapter (-panics slightly-). Please understand that after all the pre-finished chapters are done, the updates just can't be regular. I wish with all my heart they could be, but I have so so so much I have to do on a daily basis and some days I don't have any time for anything and I wish I could spew out a thousand chapters but I'm sorry, I just can't.

Quick thank you to the guest who reviewed. I'm sorry the chapters are longer- I've never been known for them being long. ^-^'

Now, here's is...

Chapter 11

I'd been tied up for two hours total. I eventually stopping fighting the restraints since the cloth was causing burns across my wrists. Instead, I settled for glaring holes into Jimmy as we flew.

"You know, if you promise not to use such _vulgar_ language or attack me, I'll untie you." His eyes drifted up to meet mine, an amused look in them. "Do we have a deal?"

I snarled and turned my face away. After a moment, I grunted as a way of saying, "Fine."

He removed the gag first, then moving onto my hands and feet, which they had tied to separate arms of the chair and chair legs. When he noticed the burns on my wrists, he growled.

"I'm going to show you five pictures. Tell me which one tied you up and I'll have him killed."

"I won't let you kill anyone else because of me."

His eyes met mine approvingly. "You did figure it out. Although I don't know why you disapprove- I did for you after all. I was avenging you. You mum left, Mrs. Jenkins used her disability to manipulate you into helping her, the little girl took what could have been your family…"

"I don't care about any of that. Everything that happened to me in my past was just- just… It just helped me become who I am. And I wasn't manipulated by Mrs. Jenkins. I helped her because that's what good people do."

"Tsk." He stood as he rolled his eyes. "'Good people'. Isn't it dull?"

"No. It's not. And what about Isaac, huh? He didn't do anything to me."

"No, I suppose not… but I couldn't just let you think that _he_ was the bomber. Oh no, no. I want credit for my work."

"You are _sick_."

"I'm only human." He told me, referencing one of the first things I told him. "Now, back to our problem with security, I don't rather like people hurting my toys. So, you'll tell me who it was or I kill all of them."

I stood up, trying to help even out the height difference. Sadly, he was still a good fourteen centimeter's taller, but I ignored that. "I did this to myself. The guard tied my wrists just tight enough that I couldn't escape. In my struggle to break free the burns appeared."

"That's what you really want to go with?"

"It's the truth, so yes."

"Fine. I doubt you could lie to me anyway. So you're either telling the truth or you're a practiced liar."

"I don't lie unless I absolutely have to and I'm _not_ furious."

"So you can't lie when you're angry?"

"I can, but the truth hurts."

"Ooh. I might make you into my partner in crime yet."

"Don't count on it."

"Touchy much? Why don't you get some rest and we'll talk some more when you're in a more pleasant mood."

I slumped down into my seat. "Good luck with that."

XXX

The flight had only lasted another half hour. I had kept an angry pout, my back turned to my kidnapper as a way of rebellion. However, every once in a while I'd catch him smirking in amusement via the reflection in the window.

When the plane landed, a security man came from the front and opened the door. The stairs were already being attached.

Jimmy grinned at me as I continued to slouch in my seat. "Oh come on. It won't be that bad."

"Says the man who earned my trust just to kidnap me."

"Alright, little bird. Stop with the moping and get arse over here." The guard said, taking a step forward.

"Harm her and I'll kill you myself."

The man stiffened and forced back a growl. "Yes, sir." He muttered before gently pulling me up.

As I was forced down the steps I asked the guard, "You're the guy from Scotland yard, right? Who didn't want me in there when Sherlock got the phone."

"See you recognize the nickname."

I nodded once. "You knew who I was, huh? What? The arsehole gave you an order to try to stop me from being there when it happened?"

"Rude." Jimmy told me as we got into the sleek, black Jaguar car. I don't know cars well, so I couldn't say the type. It was only a four-seater though.

"I repeat, 'Says the man who earned my trust_ just to_ _kidnap me._'"

"Come now, you aren't bitter over such a small thing, are you?"

I turned to Jimmy with a disgusted glare. "Yes. I am, actually." Under my breath, I muttered a few choice words about him.

"This is going to be so fun. I can really tell the family correlation between you and Sherlock's pet. Even just look-wise you could pass as his actual daughter, but personality? You're both very sweet. It's no wonder that Sherlock agreed to keep you, too. Though you have your own special twist, don't you? I mean, on the surface you're a normal twelve-almost-thirteen-year-old, but past that? Brilliant enough that even Sherlock was impressed. Beat your elder, too."

"I hope to god I'm the one who pulls the trigger on you." I muttered venomously, my jaw tightened to the point where it hurt.

"Don't get your hopes set too high, there. I have big plans. Don't worry, you're not left out." He did a half shrug. "And if I were to be honest, I'm not keeping you very long. I mostly just need you… Well, you don't need to about that, do you?"

My heart fell to my feet. "Mr. Holmes said that…when he came about Andrew West. How did you…?"

He pointed to himself with his lips curled in and his eyebrows up. "Consulting criminal. I have people who do jobs that the good guys can't do because they're, well, good guys." He gave a nonchalant shrug, his lips back to being pulled in. It was one of those looks that only he could pull off. If I weren't so angry, I'd say he was even adorable in a twisted sense.

"Well, as the bad guy, you won't win. You can cheat. You can lie. You can play games with people. But the one thing you can never do? You can't win. And all the evil you've done and will continue to do will only make your _fall_ that much worse. Because the good guys? They follow the rules only as long as you do. They believe in fair game. If that means bending a rule or two, so be it. But one day… I hope I pull that trigger. You can say all you want that it won't be me… but literal or not, I know it will be."

Really quickly, just an apology for the late posting. I was so tired and just so done yesterday that after putting the chapter into doc manager I forgot to actually post it for you all. My apologies ^-^'


	12. Chapter 12

Hello! I know it's a bit late in the day. It's been a bit crazy. But, at least it's the right day? :D Anywho, so this is the last chapter I have finished. I can't make any promises what day the chapter will be from here on out. I am working on getting more time to write, and in December/January I should be able to spit out a whole bunch of chapters since I won't have school from Dec. 22 to Jan. 22. (Long story) So, please be patient with me. If it were my choice, I'd be writing 1+ chapter a day in this story everyday but sadly I can't always find time T.T Well, for now, here's...

Chapter 12

We arrived to the cabin which I'd figured out through the conversations between the men was somewhere in a forest in Ireland. Of course, I didn't actually know since the windows of my blue and purple room were covered in daisy-painted metal sheets to ensure that I couldn't escape.

"URG!" I screamed before falling onto the pink and green sheeted bed so I could stare at the ceiling. "It's official. This is worse than hell."

"That's a bit rude." I heard as the door opened. I jumped into a sitting position as Jim entered; his eyebrows high as ever before he broke into a grin. "What do you think of the room? I got it done all cute just for you."

"It's dull as a brick and the view is horrible."

His eyes became a bit more happily electric, finding the last bit amusing. Despite this, he ignored the part about the view. "Well, in my defense, the shipments are a bit late. They should be here tomorrow, though."

"Shipments?"

"Of course. I came here two weeks ago to find that the room had only the walls painted, a decorated window cover, and a bed. I may have kidnapped you, but I'm not cruel. I don't want you to fall off your rocker." I cocked a brow at him. "I didn't say I haven't fallen from mine." I just rolled my eyes at him and went back to staring at the ceiling. "Do you want the TV there?" I glanced at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. "It's a hundred centimeter LED. We could just have them install it up there. Or we could do one of those hidden TV deals where it's hidden by a picture and you just pull it out?"

"You said I'm only here for about a month. Why try so hard?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Why shouldn't you?"

He smirked at his feet a bit, but his eyes were stone cold. "I'm going to leave you with a warning." He looked right at me with a grin lining his features. "Don't question me or I'll make your time here… unpleasant." He grinned just a little more, but his eyes were murderously empty. I tried to look completely unaffected, but if I were to be honest, he creeped me out.

"Fine. Whatever."

It was silent for a moment as he studied me. Finally, he spoke saying, "You're very upset despite knowing that this is temporary. I was hoping it'd help."

"You do realize that I considered you a friend, don't you?" I turned onto my side. "Look me in the eye and tell me that if you were in my place you wouldn't feel betrayed."

He looked me dead in the eye and asked, "Now tell me- how did I betray you?"

Despite that no direct muscles moved, I'm sure that Moriarty saw the slight change in my eye. My anger changed from a dry, completely done one to a more broken anger. "You betrayed my trust. I thought… Stupidly, I thought that maybe someone would hear the name 'Watson' and not think of my family- my uncle and Sherlock- and just assume I'm like them, be it good or bad. I thought that maybe they would just hear the name 'Alice' and think that I'm special because of who I am as a separate being." I gave a dry, empty laugh. "I guess that's too much to ask for, though. I mean, I should have known from the start. Why would a thirty-some man give any care in the world about me unless it was to use me against my family or he's a pedophile?"

If I didn't know any better, I'd say I saw a flash of guilt before he stood. "You live with the world's only consulting detective and he cares a great deal for you, even bragging about you some; you should have realized something like this would happen." He opened the door, and with his hand on the doorknob, he sent me a teasing grin. "And pedophile is so over used. I prefer the phrase 'non-picky'." With that, the door was closed and locked.

Trying to brush off what he said, I thought about escape options and found one and only one. _Alright. Now I just need to figure out a way to pry the daisy-painted metal off the windows._

XXX

After about an hour of trying to get free, I still found myself miserably stuck and bored. Lucky for me, a single knock came to my door before Jim entered. He grinned at me, to which I just rolled my eyes.

"Well, that's a bit uncalled for don't you think? Especially since I came in to let you know that I'm letting you out to get showered up before dinner."

I looked at him with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"Come on. I've already got a towel and robe in there. Some guys will come and put a wardrobe in here filled with some fresh clothes."

The other brow came closer in as well. "Why are you doing this?"

His eyes darkened, but there was some emotion that I couldn't decipher. "Why do you insist on questioning me?" That was when it clicked in my brain. He honestly cared about me. He tried to pretend I was another "pet", but every question I say has already crossed his mind. They're the questions that he ignores.

"I question you because these are the questions that most need answering and not just for me. I said earlier that I stupidly thought you cared? Well, stupidly, I still care about you and sometimes when you care about someone it means making them feel like crap. Now excuse me while I go wash off." I stalked past Jim and went down the hall to the room with a light on. As I guessed, it was the bathroom and it had the clean towel and robe like he said it would, so I locked the door behind me.

Upon finding myself uncomfortable being unclothed in the place I was in, I took a literal five minute shower. I'd just stepped out when Moriarty began banging on the door, screaming at me to open the door. I'd only barely gotten the robe wrapped tightly around me when a gun shot was heard. Another shot later and the door was opened. Moriarty grabbed me by my hair and rammed my head into the wall.

"YOU THINK I'D LET YOU OFF FREE AFTER THAT LITTLE SPIEL? YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE-!" Tears rolled down my cheeks and I whimpered in terror; screaming as he began to drag me by the collar of my shirt. He threw me to the floor of my room and hissed, "I'm going to give you one more warning- play nice and don't question me."


	13. Chapter 13

Hey! Happy Thanksgiving fellow Americans! For non-American readers, happy I'm-alive day! Anyways, I got chapter 13 done and I hope you all enjoy! (Please leave a review!)

Chapter 13

I sat in the corner of the room furthest from the door. Several hours had passed since Jim went off, but I was just as jumpy as before. When a light knock came to the door, I nearly screamed.

The guy from the police station entered with a plate with fish and chips on it and a cookie. He also had a large drink for me and a nightgown over his shoulder. He seemed angered that I was so terrified, but wasn't angry at me.

"Get over here, Bird." When I hesitated, he told me, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get over here."

I shakily stood and walked over. He had put the food and drink on the windowsill by my bed. He then sat on the expensive feeling mattress and motioned for me to sit next to him. When I did so, I noticed him pulling something from his pocket, so I jumped away a bit.

"Relax. It's a comb." Once I was seated next to him again, he started to comb out the tangles in my hair. When he got to where Jim had slammed my head into the wall, I whimpered. "The hell?" He carefully parted my hair away. "Bastard…" he muttered as he looked at the purple spot on my scalp.

More gently, he continued to brush my hair. I was tense the whole time, never forgetting that he was one of Jimmy's. When he finished, he put the food in my lap.

"Sorry about him." When I didn't even look at him for a full minute, he went to the door.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"You think you're the only one forced to be here?" With that, he closed the door.

I don't know how long passed before another sound was heard. I had eaten my food and went to sleep. I was in a living nightmare. Sleep was my escape.

I awoke to the sound of the door opening. When I saw _his_ shadow, I thought about what I could defend myself with, but there was nothing. Finding no better options, I slipped under the bed.

A dark chuckle was heard. "Really? Hiding under the bed? Bit old for that, aren't we?" When I remained silent, Jim told me, "Either come out by yourself or I'll drag you."

I took half a second to feel around for a weapon. I found a loose piece of wood on the bed's frame, so I quietly ripped it off. As I came out, I used one hand to keep the bottom of my gown down far enough as I crawled out feet first. With the other hand, I readied myself to stab him.

I'd just popped my head from under the bed. I curled the hand that had pulled my gown down over the top edge of the bed to pull me up. As quickly as I could, I shot up and swung the spear of wood at him.

He seemed to have predicted this act since he knocked my weapon away and pushed me into the bed. He held me down with a smirk on his face. He shook his head at me.

"Really? That was the best you could do?" Being too scared to say or do anything, I just stared up at him. "Alright, if you promise not to try to kill me, I'll get off. Deal?"

Since I still looked too scared to do anything, he pushed himself off me. I kicked him in the chest and went for the wood again, but just as I grabbed it, I heard his pistol cock. Slowly, I stood and looked him in the eye.

"You wouldn't shoot me. I have a part in your plan don't I?"

"Well, if you kill me now that plan doesn't matter, does it? Don't get me wrong, I'd rather _not_ shoot you." He nodded towards the splint. "You should drop that." I hesitated for a second, but listened. I was losing my only weapon, but I was going to live so, you know. Not a lot of choice. "Good. Now kick it over." Once again, I did as commanded. "Alright. Let's try this again." He put the gun in his back pocket. "Hi~i. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Maybe a minor concussion for unknown reasons."

He sighed. "About that. I may have… lost my temper a bit. In all fairness, I had half a mind to shoot you, though."

"Oh, so banging my head into a wall was self-control?"

He gave an awkward smile. "Poorly so?"

"Extremely so."

He shifted on his feet a bit. "What if I made it up to you by letting you into the living room for a while?"

"How do you know I won't escape?"

He chuckled coldly. "You can't."

I considered my options. I was honestly getting tired of staying in this same room. Finding my silence answer enough, Moriarty put an arm over shoulders and waltz us out. He led me down some stairs and past a kitchen area. There was a lingering smell of food that had my stomach growling.

"Hungry? Wait here." He went to the kitchen and pulled out some milk from the fridge. Soon enough, he was handing me a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. "Come on. _Criminal Minds_ should be on."

"Need ideas?"

"Cute. As if I need ideas from Americans who were caught."

I thought on what he said for a second. I shrugged and said, "Point taken."

He led me to a casual living room with a large TV in front of a brown sectional couch and matching chair. Moriarty took the chair and sat at the opposite side of the room on the sectional.

For three hours we watched _Criminal Minds_ in silence. Don't get me wrong, I had nothing to say to him. It had just been such a rollercoaster in the past day or so that I was sure he'd do something- but he didn't.

To be honest, it some ways, leaving me in anticipation was worse.


End file.
